


Dinner and Diatribes

by itsalwayssunnyintaubate



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Drunkenness, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 20:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalwayssunnyintaubate/pseuds/itsalwayssunnyintaubate
Summary: Frank blinks at the martini set in front of him."Courtesy of the gentleman," the bartender says, nodding towards the edge of the bar. Frank frowns at the figure he sees there, both because that's the last person he expected to see tonight and because Adam Jensen is not what one would call a gentleman.





	Dinner and Diatribes

Truth is, even though Frank Pritchard has repeatedly found himself at this bar on dark Detroit nights such as this one, he still has no idea what the the place or the bartender that greets him like an old friend are called.

It doesn’t matter, though. The bartender doesn’t know his name, either, and the bar doesn't care. 

A beer in his hand to wash down the whiskey he sets on the counter with a shiver and the night is just beginning. It’s not even social, this ritual of his, but even his recluse self sometimes feels the urge to be somewhere that it’s not his apartment or his office. The bar comes in handy then, not so crowded that he feels suffocated, not so empty that the radio silence of his own loneliness catches up to him.

Old rock music playing softly in the background, Frank almost forgets to feel sorry for himself as he watches the bartender mix cocktails. He’s almost done with his beer when the second part of his ritual is set in front of him without an order. A martini, companion piece to the buzz he already has going on.

“Courtesy of the gentleman,” the bartender says, nodding to the side of the bar. Frank almost chokes on his next breath he doesn’t know if because of who he is seeing or because, as far as he is concerned, Adam Jensen is not what one would call a gentleman.

Jensen smirks at him, shades retracted. So proud of himself, it seems. Pritchard scoffs, knocks back his whiskey with the last of his beer and, martini in hand, goes over to where the other man is sitting. He makes sure to drag his feet like this is the hardest thing he’s ever done and sighs exaggeratedly when he takes the seat next to him.

With a measured sip of his drink in lieu of a greeting, Frank watches Adam out the corner of his eye.

“Did I get it right, Francis?” Frank’s colleague asks. In his hands, he has a glass of amber liquid. Whiskey, cognac, Frank can’t tell.

He licks his lips.

“It’s not bad,” Frank replies, setting his own drink on the dark wood of the bar. The martini is perfect, just the right side of too dry. He might as well have said just that, though, with how satisfied at himself Jensen looks. “What are you doing here? Did you run out of booze back home?”

That wipes the smirk right off Jensen’s face and Frank wants to pat himself on the back. What he does is take another sip of his drink, longer this time.

“What?” Frank asks when Jensen’s eyes stay glued to his face.

“Nothing. It’s just…” Jensen frowns. “I  _ did _ run out of booze.”

It’s not supposed to be funny, but Frank has to muffle his chuckle against the rim of his glass anyway. He might be just a bit over tipsy, fucking lightweight.

_ Well, won’t Monday be interesting? _ , he thinks.

The music suddenly changes to some ballad from before both of them were born, electric guitars whipping through the air. Frank doesn’t recognize the song, but other people seem to because they are dragging their drinks and their friends to the small dance floor, excited voices yelling the lyrics until someone turns the volume up in as if trying to drown them out. Frank rolls his eyes.

It’s going to be one of  _ those _ nights, it seems.

Jensen stands up from his seat next to him and puts his back to the bar, eyes scanning the dance floor. It's more instinct than interest, keeping an eye on everyone. He’s still in his work clothes, too intimidating to fit in with the environment, but his shoulders are more relaxed than Frank remembers ever seeing them.

“You’re staring,” Adam grunts, light amusement an unfamiliar little twist on his voice. Frank decides he likes it.

“No, I’m  _ not _ ,” the tech defends himself. He sips his drink and, still staring, contemplates, “I don’t remember ever seeing you outside of work, is all.”

“Well, you wouldn’t unless you slept with me,” Adam promptly replies.

When he’s not working, he’s sleeping. That’s what he meant, Frank knows. Weird choice of words, though, and it does weird, wonderful things to Frank’s insides.

“Bit of a workaholic, aren’t you?” Frank replies. It's weak. On the dance floor, the crowd parts to offer more space to two girls who are singing together, arms flailing like they’re in a concert or something. Frank doesn’t see it, too busy reading every tiny flick of emotion on Adam's face.

“Takes one to know one,” Adam replies. “I don’t even remember seeing you outside of your  _ office _ .”

Frank finishes the last of his drink and looks away. He signals the bartender for another one, saying, “What do you mean? Just the other day…”

“You were in  _ my _ office, yeah, I remember. I had forgotten.” Adam just looks at him for a long moment. It’s unnerving, that look, but not as unnerving as the words that follow it. “You look… different.”

And that word? Well. It never sounded that good before.

_ Different _ .

A curse, almost, knowing himself not to fit in with those around him. Always just out of reach, too smart for his own good. But that’s not what Adam means and, coming from him, it sounds  _ good _ . Frank doesn’t know what to answer, though, so he watches his drink being prepared. It comes with an encouraging look from the bartender, a raised eyebrow towards Adam and Frank regrets not knowing the man’s name in order to sigh it in annoyance.

He drinks a third the drink on his first gulp.

_ Different _ . He’s barely any different from his usual self. Hair still tied. Jeans, a sweater. After all, he’s not about to get all dressed up to get drunk.

But Jensen still watches him like he’s never seen Frank before.

“Now  _ you’re _ staring,” Frank censures him and then makes the grave mistake of making eye contact. It’s off-putting seeing it up close, what Sarif did to Adam’s eyes. It’s beautiful in a tragic way and absolutely impossible to look at without hating himself for not stepping up, for just  _ letting _ it happen.

Both legs and arms gone. All this augmentations.

Adam looks away first. He downs his drink in one go and sets the empty glass on the bar, pushing it away with those fingers, mesh of metal and polymers moving as slick and flawlessly as human muscle. Frank vaguely wonders what percentage of Adam’s body is still organic, but then remembers the C.A.S.I.E augmentation and tries to break that train of thought, heart flying to his throat, thinking,  _ Adam will  _ see _ it _ . Will see  _ something _ , some part of the twisted mess of his emotions, his feeling for…

“I have to…” Frank stands up, eyes downcast. “Restroom.”

“I’ll be here,” Adam replies as his colleague all but flees from the bar.

-x-

Maybe he shouldn’t have had that first shot of whiskey, Frank thinks as he stares into the pink staining his cheeks in the mirror. The water he’s washed up with repeatedly, ice-cold, does nothing for his flushed face. His fingers tingle with cold, with intoxication, with God knows what, and the pounding of his heart threatens to match the dull  _ dum-dum-dum _ that bleeds into the restroom for a second as someone enters. The door closes again, muffling the music outside as the stainless steel of the sink fog under the warmth of Frank’s fingers.

_ What the fuck, Frank? _

The fact that Adam Jensen is objectively attractive shouldn’t make him feel this way. It never had, before.

But they’re not at work, now. They’re out. No familiar faces around, no mission to accomplish. It’s tempting, it’s what it is. To go down that road, see where it takes him. So tempting it hurts a bit to think that, no.

It’s  _ not _ going to happen. There’s no way.

That’s why he tells himself he’s not disappointed when one minute later he finds Jensen at the bar talking to some girl in a back dress, a small smile on his lips as he raises both hands and slightly angles his body back and away. Frank’s abandoned martini lies on the counter next to him and Frank considers leaving it there. Leaving  _ him _ there.

Frank isn’t known for making good decisions when left to his own devices, however, so he goes back. To the bar. To his martini, he tells himself. By the time he makes his way through the dance floor, though, the girl is gone.

“Oh, no, did I scare her away?” he sneers. Adam has a glass of something else in his hand, dark and bubbly.

“Oh, I wish. No, she wanted to  _ dance _ ,” Adam explains like it’s the worst thing he’s ever heard.

A slower song start playing. It takes Frank three heartbeats to recognize.

“Hotel California,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Adam replies. His eyes shift to the dance floor.

“And you don’t dance?” Frank prods.

“Not if I can help it,” Adam replies. “Besides, she was barely of legal age…”

It’s said almost as an afterthought and Frank has a sudden vision of Adam dancing awkwardly with that stiff posture of his, following the swimming guitar chords, a faceless lady in his arms. Smiling to himself, Frank offers, “Shame. This is such a nice song.”

They sip their drinks in companionable silence while the song they don’t dance to grows around them like a fog. When they just can't kill the beast, Adam sets his empty glass on the counter. He brushes a bit too close to Frank, startling the shorter man.

Frank goes very still. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam is no more than a shadowy figure, but if he focuses enough he can almost feel the unnatural heat emanating from his augmented body.

Slowly, Eagles turns into Aerosmith. On the dancefloor, a group of girls belt out the lyrics to Crazy and across the bar the bartender asks, “One more?”

It startles Frank, makes him jump.

“Easy,” Adam whispers at the same time as Frank mumbles a distracted  _ no, thanks _ . He feels weary. Heat gains another two or three degrees as a warm hand meets the curve of the tech’s waist, a touch firm yet cautious. And Frank would brush it off, it could mean anything, but Adam is too close. Frank can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“What are you doing?” Frank asks in an urgent whisper, hating how out of fucking breath he sounds. One more touch, a look lingering too long, and he’ll crumble. He  _ knows _ it.

“Tell me to stop.” The sentence, somewhere between a dare and a plea, comes with soft lips brushing the shell of his ear, breath ticking, and those fingers? Edging under the hem of his sweater. Adam must be –  _ has _ to be – able to feel the shiver that runs through Frank, because the taller man comes closer still, impossibly close, broad chest against his shoulder. Warm,  _ so _ damned warm.

“Don’t,” Frank sighs, unsure if it’s supposed to be  _ don’t stop _ or  _ don’t touch me, please, don’t _ . But he is melting into every tiny touch, skin lighting up as if starved for the attention.

Adam seems to read him through his body, though, because his hand presses flat against his stomach and the bar disappears from Frank’s mind. He doesn’t know if anyone is looking at them, doesn’t care. When Adam pulls him back against his body, groin pressed tight against Frank’s backside, Frank goes with no more than a soft exhale.

“You like that, huh?” Adam sounds surprised and so many other things. How Frank will ever be able to hear his voice through the infolink now that he knows what Adam sounds like when he’s aroused, he has not idea.

“Fuck,” Frank breathes, fingers closing over the hardened structure of Adam’s forearm. Adam chuckles, mouthing a line into Frank’s throat, teeth teasing into smooth skin and tongue soothing. Frank presses back, shifts his hips, shivering and longing to feel the shape of him. “Adam…”

The name rolls easy off his tongue as if he’d said it a million times.

“Are you drunk, Francis?” Adam suddenly asks. His fingers trace the line of the hacker’s ribs under his sweater as his other hand finds the sharp jut of a hip bone, pulls Frank into the small roll of his hips, too slow to be obvious, too firm to be anything but intentional.

“Just a bit,” Frank ends up saying. Drunk enough for the whole thing to feel a bit unreal, not enough to be an excuse. Adam is hard against him, he can feel it. His own cock feels like fire between his legs, neglected but oh, so ready to be touched.

“Good,” Adam replies.  _ Crazy _ , Steve Tyler sings.  _ Crazy _ . “I want you to come home with me.”

“Yeah,” Frank groans, mind catching up to what Adam said a second too late. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m going to fuck you until you forget how much you hate me,” Adam replies, shifting around a bit. Frank bites his lip to stop himself from reacting too enthusiastically to Adam’s words, but there’s a sting there.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Jensen,” Frank shoots before he can think better of it, knee-jerk reaction that sounds so wrong, so out of control. “To hate you, I’d have to  _ care _ about you.”

The chuckle it gets out of Adam carries no humor. Black fingers slide a credit card across the bar. Enough for both their tabs, nothing but a gentleman. Inside the heat of Adam’s arms, Frank turns around to kiss him. Adam tightens his grasp, arms circling Frank’s waist and pulling him tight as his lips part to deepen the kiss, alcohol lingering around every tentative touch of their tongues.

A deep moan vibrates from Adam’s chest. It makes Frank a bit dizzy. “Fuck,” the tech breathes, electricity spreading under his skin. “We need to get out of here.”

Adam doesn’t need to be told twice. Frank, though? That is a different story, though. He keeps expecting something to stop them from leaving together, from going home.

He doesn’t  _ get _ to have this.

But they do leave and walk together, arms around each other in a surreal rendition of their relationship, stopping on every dark corner they come across to make out like teenagers who can’t keep their hands off each other.

“Driving me fucking crazy,” Adam moans, pushing Frank against a closed gate and kissing him long and hard. They’re less than five minutes from his apartment, but he can’t help himself. He has the thumb of an augmented hand pressed against Frank’s lower lip as their kiss part. When Frank pulls the digit between his parted lips, Adam groans as if it were his cock against the hacker’s clever tongue. “Come on,” he says, pulling the finger from Frank’s mouth as if it hurt him to do so. 

He doesn’t let go of Frank’s hand until they’re inside the elevator.

As the doors close, Frank looks at the floor under his feet, suddenly unsure about what to do with himself. Surely they have cameras in these things and the way that woman at the lobby looked at them? Maybe she just doesn’t like Adam, not that Frank could really blame her, but he is not sure Adam wants to get a reputation by bringing strange man home late at night. But then he’s staring at Adam’s boots instead of the floor, a soft touch under his chin forcing his head up into another kiss.

Is this how Frank envisioned his night going? No. Definitely not. Then, is he surprised? Nervous?

Not that, either. Slowly is the way they kiss and the way the kiss remains no matter how urgent the press of their hips is. Frank feels like he’s been rock-hard the entire night.

“Are you okay?” Adam quietly asks as the elevator slows to a stop. “With this. Us.”

“I wouldn’t have come if I weren’t,” Frank responds. He aims for snappy but sounds only grave. The doors slide open and a million things on the tip of Frank’s tongue slip away as he exits after Adam.

The city lights outside Adam’s windows catch Frank’s eye as he crosses the threshold. Maybe he looks too long, gets a little lost in it.

Adam suddenly asks, “What are you thinking about?”

_ Nothing _ , Frank wants to say. But there are too many things on his mind for that to be true.

Vulnerable as he feels, he still finds it within himself to say, “I just… I never thought…,” but he trails off. There’s just so much, too much to be put into words. 

Adam nods as if he understands every unvoiced thought.

“This is quite a turn of events.” He speaks as quietly as he always does, but is reaching out to softly touch Frank’s hair, the side of his head. Such a mess, what they did. What they’re about to do. And yet, Frank feels ravenous. “What do you want to happen here tonight, Francis?”

And there’s that name again, Frank thinks even as he leans into Adam’s touch. This infuriating man is the only person at Sarif who’s ever called him that — the only one who  _ dared _ . It doesn’t carry the same bite this time, though. No provocation behind it.

“What you said earlier.”  _ I’ll  _ fuck _ you _ – fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ you. “I’d be… comfortable with that. If you wanted it.”

A smile on Adam’s lips and, although augmented, his eyes still carry the message clearly. Approval.

“I  _ do _ want that. Don’t I?” Hardened specialized fingers pull Frank’s hand between Adam’s legs until it’s pressed against the firm line of his cock under layers of fabric. Burning hot and so,  _ so _ hard, and they’ve barely done anything.

“And tomorrow?” Frank can’t help himself from pressing, fingers against Adam’s hard-on, words looking for clarification. “What do you want to happen tomorrow, Jensen?”

“Call me Adam. You called me earlier,” Adam dodges, but his eyes are sincere. “Tomorrow as well.”

Frank inhales sharply, heat pulsing against his fingers. “Okay. Adam,” he concedes, stepping back to strip, his sweater and the thin t-shirt underneath it falling to the floor. Much more surely that he feels, Frank demands, “Undress.”

Adam looks caught off-guard, but does as he’s told and Frank only remembers he has permission to touch when they’re completely naked. It’s one thing to know how heavily modified Adam’s body is, but it's a completely different one to  _ see _ it so closely. And he wants to touch. Touch  _ him _ . Just put his hands, his mouth, all over his flesh, augmented or not. 

But Adam’s body is all coiled up in challenge, in tension, as if daring Frank to say something, and the hacker proceed with caution. Long fingers tracing the soft skin on Adam's collarbone, around the metal dotting his chest, eager lips kissing the shadow of uncertainty right of his face.

Frank’s knees hit the ground, only one thing on his mind, a second after Adam tries to deepen the kiss.

Truth is, he’s been thinking about sucking Adam’s cock since the first press of those hips against him. The surprised little ‘ooh’ that Adam makes as Frank swallows him down, throaty and breathless, erases any uncertainties Frank had about being able to please him.

“Fuck, Francis,” Adam breathes as Frank closes his eyes, head bobbing between Adam’s legs a slow torture. His tongue drags against the underside of the shaft, flicking against the frenulum on every other stroke. Adam can’t stop his hips from twitching, inching towards Frank’s face. “Don’t stop,” he begs.

A drag of hardened fingers across Frank’s scalp pulls his hair out of the ponytail, hairband falling uselessly to the floor, and Adam lets out this shocked little moan at the visuals it grants him. He decides he likes Frank like this, swallowing his cock like he’s dying for it, hair loose and wild, cheeks flushed and eyes dark, barely open. Adam pushes his fingers through the dark locks experimentally and Frank looks up.

Frank has seen Adam in a variety of states over the years. Boiling with anger, defeat. Injured. Never like this, though, because right now? Adam looks devastated and Frank can’t help but deliver another blow. “You can pull it,” he whispers like it’s a secret and a plea all at once. “I  _ like _ it.”

Adam looks as if he’s been sucker punched. “ _ Goddamnit _ ,” he grunts, fingers loosening for a second and then tightening on Frank’s hair, twisting the dark locks around his fingers. Frank bends his neck, testing the give of Adam’s grasp and moaning low inside his chest. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” Adam promises, hips shoving forward in request that Frank has no choice but to fulfill.

It’s perfection. Push and pull of his hips like the ocean. Frank relaxes into it, into the sharp but sweet ache on his scalp, heavy pressure on his tongue, slick pouring into his mouth as Adam moans and curses and loses his mind above him. On the back of his mind, he thinks about their jobs, how many times they’ve worked together, argued and bitched to and about each other, and how insane it is that this is where they got from there.

He could stay here forever, he thinks, a calm he’s rarely felt before washing over him. At being wanted like this,  _ used _ like this. He could very well just let Adam fuck his face for the rest of his life. But he can feel Adam getting closer and closer to his climax and he wants more. He  _ needs _ more, his body demanding to have release as well as provide it.

“Don’t come yet,” Frank tells Adam, pulling away. His lips feel raw, his jaw a bit sore, but he can’t stop touching Adam, his fingers now stroking the hot length covered in saliva and precome.

“Okay. I won’t,” Adam says as if it’s just that easy. As if all Frank as to do is ask. Come. Don’t come. “Come here.”

Adam helps him up and Frank has to lean on him, his legs shaky as hell. How long has he stayed on his knees? He has no idea. Long enough for it to hurt, trying to stand up. Adam cradles his face as they kiss, his other hand around Frank’s waist, pulling him along, leading them towards the bedroom.

Adam's bed is still unmade, but Frank lies back on it as if it’s silky satin and rose petals. It almost feels like it with the reverent way Adam touches and explores his skin with fingers first, then mouth. 

_ Fuck _ , Frank thinks when it becomes clear that Adam likes to bite. He’ll have bruises tomorrow, hickeys and teeth marks on his neck, chest, and between his shoulder blades when Adam flips him over like he’s made of paper and promptly resumes his attack.

It shouldn’t be hot, being manhandled, but it has him grinding his hips down onto the mattress while Adam sinks his teeth on the soft meat between his shoulder and neck and soothes it with his tongue right after.

Frank reminds himself that this is what he asked for.  _ Fuck you until you forget how much you hate me _ . Fuck you.  _ “ _ Fuck _ ” _ , Frank moans as he buries his face into one of Adam’s pillow. It smells so intensely of him Frank is tempted to steal the damn thing, but then Adam’s hands are spreading him open, his warm breath touching hidden, shivering furled flesh and Frank can’t think of anything other than, “Fuck…  _ Goddamnit _ , Adam!”

He arches his spine at the first touch if Adam's tongue, offering himself up for a better angle. He feels filthy in the best way possible and is so lost into the sensations that it takes him a couple of minutes to understand that his throat feels sore because of the drawn-out moans he is smothering against Adam’s pillow.

“Don’t hold back,” Adam says when Frank tries to stop himself from being so loud, augmented hand fitting between Frank’s parted legs to stroke his neglected cock. Frank makes a sobbing sound, bites his lips to hold it back. “Let me hear. I wanna hear you.”

And then he’s  _ inside, _ tongue thrusting, and Frank can’t be expected to retain any composure. He  _ is _ embarrassed, a bit, but not enough to stop him from begging for Adam’s cock, the man’s name and  _ please, please, please _ falling so easily from his lips. A finger teases against Frank’s hole, barely scraping the rim, but then it withdraws. Frank half-expected Adam to just shove inside and fuck him into the mattress, but Adam whispers, “Do you have any condoms?”

It’s not the words, but the embarrassed way Adam says them that makes Frank roll to the side with a frown, cold anxiety settling inside his stomach.

“You don’t have any condoms,” Frank mumbles as if saying the words aloud will help them make sense. It doesn’t. Truth is, through the thick haze of lust surrounding him? He didn’t even  _ consider _ condoms. Now, though… “You’re… fucking  _ unbelievable _ . How can  _ you _ not have…?”

As soon as Frank starts gesturing, it dawns on him and he  _ sees _ it, clear as day. Adam’s body, the augmentations that replaced his arms and legs, the scars on the softness of his skin. He’s still so attractive it hurts a bit, but Frank can’t begin to imagine the effect such change had on his psyche. It’s not a surprise that his body is not something Adam wants to share with people.

“Stupid,” Frank calls him just as he thinks of himself as stupid.

He doesn’t have condoms either. This is not how he expected his night to go, at all. He pauses for a second, considering their options. He’s always been so paranoid with these things and, well, it’s  _ Adam _ .

“Still want you to fuck me, though,” Frank offers, not daring to raise his eyes.

Adam replies with an incredulous snort, fingers pulling at Frank’s hip. “Come here, Francis,” he demands.

It’s so easy to straddle him it kind of shocks Frank. Adam’s eyes turn predatory as they run over Frank's skin and this feels like something they’ve done a thousand times before, even though the feeling of Adam’s cock nested between his thighs, almost against his own weeping erection, is anything  _ but _ old. Frank shifts a bit, rubs against him just to make him gasp and then pulls at the hard material of his wrist.

Their eyes lock.

Adam’s fingers feel warm between his lips, against his tongue, and Frank has to wonder if they’re always this warm. Every augmentation is a bit different. Digits press against his tongue, testing the slide of it, and Adam echoes the moan that escapes Frank. Frank can’t help but make a spectacle of himself. With Adam’s eyes on him, he coats the digits with his saliva, licking and sucking. When he pushes that hand back down, Adam doesn’t need the whispered “Here,” he offers.

He  _ knows _ what he’s doing, Frank realizes, moaning as a finger breaches him, burning so good he thinks he might not be able to come back from this. He pushes against it, wants it deeper, and Adam indulges him, lips parting as his breathing quickens.

“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now,” Adam confesses as he tries to fit another finger into Frank. His free hand clutches at Frank’s thigh, carefully, so mindful of his strength it makes Frank want to scream. “It’s killing me… I wanna...”

“What?” Frank asks, reaching down to squeeze his own cock a couple of times. A long drop of clear liquid falls from it onto Adam’s stomach as he insists, “What do you want?”

Adam smirks, fingers twisting and pressing just right. Frank gasps. “Want to spread you and hold you open and  _ watch _ you take my cock, maybe against the window in the living room, you seemed to like the view,” Adam replies, voice smoke dense, his neglected erection twitching helplessly between their bodies. Frank’s lips slide open and his muscles spasm around Adam’s fingers.

“Fuck,” Frank gasps. He’s always been so paranoid with safe sex, he’ll get a checkup later, he promises himself.

Not a word between them, Frank spits into his hand and coats Adam’s cock with his saliva. If Adam doesn’t have condoms, he doubts he will have lube and, well, he doesn’t really want to go looking for it now. Doesn’t want to go anywhere. If he lingers a bit while stroking Adam’s length, feeling the heat and weight of it against his palm, Adam doesn’t object. His cock slides so flawlessly between Frank’s fingers the hacker feels feverish when he lines it up.

“Are you sure?” Adam has the gall to ask as the glans presses against Frank’s entrance, trying to make way. The only answer he gets is a shivering moan as Frank’s body envelops him inch by inch, the burning stretch making him moan and shiver, eyes sliding closed.

Having Adam so intimately close, no barrier between their burning flesh, Frank might lose himself a bit, not prepared for the intensity. Adam moans low inside his chest with every roll of Frank’s hips, hands on his thighs encouraging his movements.

“So fucking tight,” he breathes, unblinking eyes fixed on Frank as if he’s afraid the other is going to disappear if he closes his eyes.

Frank, of course, has to lean forward to kiss him, sucking at Adam’s tongue as his fingers lie against the metal pieces on his chest. “Touch me,” Frank asks, hips rolling faster, a bit harder. “Adam, please. It’s okay.”

Those words finally get Adam to move, fingers around Frank’s cock spreading slick all over his length. Frank lets out a husky groan that Adam swallows as they kiss, his free hand firm behind Frank’s head, keeping him close.

But now that he’s close enough, Frank can’t keep still, peppering lingering kisses across Adam’s jaw and down his neck. He feels Adam’s encouraging moans, loud for such a quiet man, under his lips and tongue, but when he reaches the artificial tendons on his throat, Adam goes very quiet, the hand on Frank’s dick losing rhythm for a second.

Frank doesn’t stop his ministrations, but his touches grow softer, more tender, until Adam drags him up into another kiss, hips desperately shoving up as his fingers tighten and slide on Frank’s cock, a twist of his wrist that pushes Frank that much closer to the edge.

And the thing is, somewhere deep and primal that he fights to keep hidden from the world, Frank knows Adam is close as well. Their kiss breaks as they shove and push against each other and struggle to breathe. Adam’s face twists into sweet pleasure-pain, mouth open in a hoarse moan.

“Oh, fuck,” Frank gasps, body going rigid against Adam, around Adam, muscles tightening, wet warmth spreading between their bodies as he comes in long, spine-melting spurts. Adam strokes him through it, through the aftershocks, and then he thrusts once, twice. 

“Gonna come,” he chokes out.

That’s another thing Frank is not ready for. He can  _ feel _ it when Adam comes, every single spurt of warm semen inside of him, every twitch of his cock. 

Very slowly, Adam stops moving. Frank runs his fingers through the mess on Adam’s stomach and chest, massaging it onto smooth skin. He’s barely aware of what he’s doing when Adam suddenly snatches his hand up and lifts it to his mouth. Eyes closed, he licks Frank’s fingers clean, moaning in fucked-out delight. Frank watches his fingers disappear between pink lips and thinks that, well, fuck.

He might never be able to stop wanting to kiss Adam Jensen if he keeps this shit up.

Adam sighs into the kiss Frank presses to his parted lips and rolls them over so effortlessly Frank feels a bit dizzy. Frank can taste himself, he realizes, and movements dislodges Adam’s cock. His come spills out of Frank’s hole and onto the sheets and,  _ god _ , it feels gross in a way that Frank is pretty sure he can get used to, actually. He  _ wants _ to get used to, Adam rolling around with him, messing up his bed and staining his sheets and, wow, now that’s a thought.

Adam keeps kissing Frank, completely indifferent to any conflict the shorter man might be going through. Now that his desire has returned to a gentle hum instead of the burning ache from earlier, Adam feels heavy and warm, sleepy as he cards his fingers through the mess Frank’s hair has become.

It’s feels so good Frank settles into Adam’s arms with a soft sigh, but he still feels pretty gross, all sweaty and flushed.

“Do you mind if I borrow your shower?” he asks against Adam’s hair, his words sounding awkward now, devoid of his usual arrogance.

Beside him, Adam stifles a yawn. “Will you let me join you?”

The second it takes for Frank to consider the question — showering together, isn’t that too much? Too intimate? Too domestic? Too fast? — Adam closes off. It’s a small thing, a shift on the set of his shoulders as he obviously reads too much into him.

That damned C.A.S.I.E aug.

With a long suffering sigh, Frank sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He shoots Adam the most unimpressed look he can muster and asks, “Well, are you coming or not?”

Adam doesn’t answer, but he does follow Frank into the bathroom.

-x-

The mirror above the sink is broken, Frank can’t help but notice. It doesn’t take long at all for him to put two and two together with the way Adam pointedly avoids looking at him after catching him staring.

Frank knows better than to ask, too, and there’s a quiet kind of thankfulness on the way Adam kisses his shoulder before he turns on the hot water.

Frank breathes slowly. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that everything smells like Adam, but being so completely surrounded by his scent throws Frank for a loop. They take turns under the spray and he lets Adam slide soaped up hands over his shoulders and back, down his chest. Between his legs, fingers prodding curiously at the space his cock occupied just a few minutes earlier. Frank sighs.

“There’s some shampoo, if you need,” Adam offers, the tip of a finger catching against his rim and then moving up and away. Fucking tease.

Frank nods, “Sure.”

Adam's shampoo smells of lemon and something woodsy Frank can't identify. It's fitting, he thinks when Adam takes the bottle from between his fingers and takes it upon himself to shampoo his hair, washing the sweat and tensions of the day all off. And Frank knew showering together would be like this or some other messed up version of this, too personal, too good, but he’s starving for this closeness as much as he can tell Adam is.

He’s scared of how  _ little _ this scares him, a contented sigh on his lips as Adam withdraws his hands. They look at each other for a long moment, confusion and fascination on their faces as if it’s their first time looking at another human being.

Not knowing what to do with all he sees in Adam’s too open, too knowing eyes, Frank steps back under the shower, head tipping back, eyes sliding shut.

He has his free hand on the curve of Adam’s waist while the other runs through his own hair, pushes water and soap off his eyes. With Adam so close, touching him and looking at him the way he is, Frank is completely hard again. When they kiss, Frank realizes that Adam is too, but Adam doesn’t push for more, doesn’t ask.

As if he wouldn't dare.

So Frank decides it for the two of them, deepening the kiss and pulling Adam closer, pressing their wet bodies flush against each other, hips aligning, pressing.

Absentmindedly, he realizes not a word has been said since they entered the bathroom. And they still don’t need to say anything as he turns around, arms braced against the cold tiles of the shower. A silent demand for Adam to carry on with the show.

Adam fucks Frank up against the wall, relentlessly and flawlessly, just the right side of too hard. Frank feels like he’s being punched out of his own body with each thrust, about to fly out of his own skin, heart thundering in desperation with how perfect it is. He can’t help but push back, back arching like a big cat and moaning, gasping, cursing.

“Fuck, I’d like to keep you just like this, Francis,” Adam murmurs, pulling Frank's hips back into him, forcing the hacker almost on his tiptoes. He thrusts forward, pace turning brutal, and Frank lets his head fall onto his arms. “Just like this, forever. Squirming on my cock, so ready for me…”

“Adam, fuckin’…” Frank gasps as the angle shifts just enough for Adam to ram into his prostate on every other stroke, feet sliding a bit on the wet floor. If he slips, Adam had better catch him. 

“I want to keep fucking you just like this for hours, what do you think? Fast and hard and then  _ slow _ ,” Adam goes on and does just that, slowing down. He thrusts even  _ harder _ , though, deeper. “Keep you right there, riding that edge, until I get you begging. Begging to come, for me to make you come on my cock…”

“Goddamnit, Adam,” Frank breathes, right where Adam wants him. If he could only reach down and touch himself... but he feels so good right where he is, he doesn’t dare move other than to moan a provocation, “Always knew… ah… that mouth of yours was trouble.”

Because how can Frank deny how hopelessly in love he is with him with the things Adam is saying?

Adam’s chuckle is breathless. “And you like to keep me talking, don’t you?” He teases, fingers wrapping around Frank’s neglected cock. He strokes him even more slowly than he’s moving now, but it’s perfect. Frank is so close he can almost taste it. “Never really could leave me alone.”

“As if you could ever resist mouthing off at me,” Frank bites back, going pliant in Adam’s arms as he picks up speed, hips and fist. “Fuck, Adam… harder.”

A bite on his earlobe, Adam’s voice a scorching flame against his ear. “Damn, Francis, you feel so good, so tight. Fuckin’ perfect, burning hot for me...” A tongue to soothe the sting of the bite, the sounds of their wet skin coming together time and again an obscene echo against the cold tiles. “Like you were  _ made _ for it, made for taking it.  _ Perfect _ for my cock,” Adam breathes. Frank’s erection throbs in his grasp, so close.

“You can’t just say shit like that,” Frank moans, shoving against Adam’s fist, but Adam is slowing down again.

“And why is that?” Adam asks. Frank sighs. It feels like torture to be this close, but there’s a part of him that just doesn’t want it to be over yet.

“You know why,” he replies, grave as he feels. Adam thrusts once, twice, measured to tease more than satisfy and, just like that, the truth spills out between Frank’s parted lips. “There’s no turning back, now.”

_ Monday will be interesting _ , comes as a stray thought, repeating, looping around itself. Come Monday, what will be of them?

Adam freezes for a second, arms around Frank’s middle.

“Do you  _ want _ to turn back?” He asks, tone carefully neutral and Frank knows that, even now, he can turn back if he wants.

“No,” Frank responds. Too quickly, too urgently. Because just as Adam says it, he knows it’s the last thing he wants to do. Turn back. Return to a time when he didn’t know what Adam’s kisses taste like, how his touch threatens to burn into Frank’s skin.

“And why not?” Adam prods. The bastard. He  _ knows _ . Frank tightens his muscles around him on purpose and Adam gasps, burying himself to the holy once, twice, three times before he can stop himself.

“ _ Because _ ,” Frank petulantly responds. Adam chuckles, but his next questions is so serious it chills Frank’s bones.

“Why, Frank?” There’s not an ounce of humor in his voice. “Why are you letting me do this to you?”

It’s the phrasing more than anything that makes Frank feel cold from head to toe.  _ Letting _ you do this to me?, he wants to scream. Like he’s subjecting to a horrible experience, to shame, embarrassment.

He doesn’t scream, though. But he does step out of the shower without a word, batting Adam’s hands away when he tries to stop him. 

Pacing on auto-pilot, Frank goes straight through the bedroom and back into the living room without thinking, dripping water all over the floor.

“Frank?” Adam calls him. Not Francis.  _ Frank _ .

“You don’t know when to stop, do you?!” Frank roars, anger coloring his every syllable. He was fine, until he wasn’t. Why did Adam have to ruin everything? “Never satisfied. Have to push too far. Fucking prick.”

Panic feels thick on the back of his throat, tightening his breathing. He had Adam’s cock up his ass not once, but twice, which is something that he just…

He just doesn’t  _ do _ , all right? Not with the way his life is. Why would he let people get that close to him? Why would anyone want to?

Not to mention the condom thing. Such a monumental series of horrible decisions, he thinks,  _ really, Frank, you should have known better… _

“Don’t leave,” Adam asks, and then Frank looks at him. It’s dark in the living room except for to city light bleeding in through the windows, but Adam looks like something out of a dream. “Please,” he adds.

In this moment, Adam is the same as him. Still naked, still wet. Still half-hard. A hand extended as if he wants to touch Frank, but unsure if he should.

Frank sniffs. It’s not like he is going anywhere anytime soon. He needs a towel and clothes, at least. But Adam doesn’t see that. He just sees the man he spent a considerable amount of time trying not to fall for about to leave him after a night Adam never thought he would have the chance of experiencing after…

“Fuck,” Frank swears, eyes stinging. This is quickly becoming his new favorite word.

_ This is not how this was supposed to go. _

“Don’t leave,” Adam repeats, taking a step closer.  _ Don’t leave  _ me.

“I’m not going to,” Frank sniffs again, louder, rubbing still wet fingers over equally wet eyes. He takes a deep breath. “I have to tell you something.”

This _ is not what you think _ . This is more. It’s bigger. The words are right there, but they get stuck to his teeth. He’s in love with Adam, who is reaching out, touching is face and looking at him like it's not a big deal. Like he could say anything. Tell him everything.

“What is it?”

Frank laughs, shuddering, bitter. “It makes me sick, how much I want you.” He shivers. Too cold in the living room, now that his fury is no longer keeping him warm. “Makes me want to scream, hit something, just…”

“It’s okay,” Adam replies. He comes closer, closer, and before Frank knows it, he’s enveloped into a warm embrace. Adam’s chin rests on the side of his head. “You know I want you too.”

“You don’t…” Frank rubs his eyes again. His wet hair tickles against his naked back, too cold. “You don’t understand…  _ how much _ .”

“Don’t I?” Adam presses on. “‘Cause I don’t just do this with anyone who comes my way, you know.” It feels like a blow, that sentence. Almost like asking,  _ who do you think I am _ ? But Adam’s face is soft and so is his voice when he says, “Come here.”

Frank allows himself to be kissed even as she shakes from panic, from cold. He’s never been particularly strong, but he never experienced the type of weakness he feels around Adam either. As they kiss, Adam presses the palm of Frank’s hand against the center of his chest where his heart beats, hummingbird fast.

“You…?” Frank starts the question before having the courage to say the words.

“I…?” Adam echoes, breath fanning against Frank’s lips. Frank presses his hand harder on Adam’s chest, barely able to breathe. A question. Adam nods. “I do.”

Frank lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He’s so shaky he barely resists when Adam picks him up. His arms loop around Adam’s neck, legs around his waist. Adam props him on the back of his couch, but Frank doesn’t complain about the hard wood of the frame because they’re kissing like the world is ending. Slow and sweet as everything they know changes.

When he lets Adam back inside his body this time, they gasp into each other’s mouth at the pressure and heat. Adam’s stomach presses against Frank’s cock on every thrust, his own cock hitting him at an angle so perfect Frank doesn’t even care if he’s almost falling from his perch.

When he comes, clutching Adam’s hair and head in his hands, those too knowing, too sincere eyes are glued to his face, watching him, seeing everything.

Frank stops resisting. Lets Adam see it. Holds on and lets Adam fuck his boneless body until he climaxes with a guttural sound, arms so tight around Frank it feels like he wants to fuse their bodies together.

“You’re staying,” Adam says as they come down from their highs. Frank can still hear the shower running in the bathroom as he runs his fingers across the muscles on Adam’s back.

“You’re so clingy,” he comments with a touch of surprise in his voice. Adam starts to back and Frank tightens his legs around him, quickly saying, “No, Adam, come here, I’m not complaining.”

Adam sighs, settling back against Frank.

“Everything you say sounds like a complaint,” he considers.

Frank considers taking that bait, but ends up saying, instead, “I’ll stay the night.”

“Stay tomorrow too,” Adam demands like a stubborn child.  _ Choosing beggars _ , Frank thinks and almost says aloud. What stops him is Adam adding, quietly as if not wanting to be heard, “Stay forever.”

It’s the loneliness staining those words that has Frank sighing in resignation, fully aware that will not leave this apartment unless Adam tells him to. And, as far as forever goes, they might as well start with that shower they never finished, and deal with Monday when it comes. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not my mother language and I'm getting cross eyed from staring too long at this text, so I'm putting it out there. Lemme know what you think and if you find anything too wrong with it!  
> Thanks! ;)
> 
> Also, I'm on Tumblr as itsalwayssunnyintaubate  
> Come say hi! I take prompts!


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